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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022857">A Priori</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostforests/pseuds/catacrypts'>catacrypts (ghostforests)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but it’s not Eddie), /hotel room, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Delusions, Derry (Stephen King), Eddie and Richie possessing precisely no common sense between the two of them, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I promise there are many good and happy moments in this, Internalized Homophobia, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating will change, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Sick Character, Slow Burn, all jokes aside this is going to be horror, dont, for flavor, have you ever driven at night in Maine, it’ll start tame and get closer to horror as we go, little bit different though, of sorts, the clown is in this one sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:15:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostforests/pseuds/catacrypts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie Kaspbrak has never come home. Maine, the state he was born and raised in, had never had much return value in Eddie’s eyes. He has a life, a soon to be fiancé, a stable income, and no room for nostalgia in his budget. When his income forces him to finally go back, he unwittingly unlocks the door that lets Richie Tozier back into his life, and with him, what Eddie’s been missing his entire life.<br/>But give it time. They’ve got a long way to go first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Reddie - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Priori</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my first fic in a long time, and first fic at all for It. I’m very excited, and I’ll try to update consistently. I’ll tag anything I think might be an issue, but please let me know if there’s anything missing! </p>
<p>Lights, cameras, downpour!</p>
<p>__________________________________<br/>Whatever it is creates a slightly darker space against the darkness of the hour and the storm. This wouldn’t be concerning if he wasn’t in the middle of fucking nowhere, without passing a house for miles. He tries his best to rationalize. It could, reasonably, be a bear.<br/>That doesn’t make him feel much better.<br/>Eddie holds his breath and moves his hand slowly, slowly, even though there’s no chance whatever the hell it is can see him. He doesn’t have his overhead light on, thank god, but it’s right in front of the nose of his car now.<br/>In one motion, Eddie flicks on the highs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside the windows of the car, the rain comes down in sheets. It’s a veritable Nor’Easter, if there’s ever been one, and the tiny Subaru rocks back and forth a little in the wind. From inside the car, nothing can be seen more than a few feet away. It’s silent, with the exception of the rain pounding against a sunroof exposed to the sky. </p>
<p>Eddie Kaspbrak has his feet thrown up onto the dash, desperately wishing he could get out and stretch. He’s glaring, though he wouldn’t openly admit it, out at the rain. The sound of the downpour should be soothing, but it’s mostly infuriating when he’s trapped on a back road in Fuckall, Maine with somewhere to be in the morning. Evergreens and maples stretch out endlessly on either side of the road, or at least the one he’s on, and the leaves are all flipped the wrong way, being ripped off and thrown around by the storm. His windshield is collecting a small colony of them, so he reaches across the center console to flip on his wipers with annoyance, and a little bit of spite. <br/><br/>He should’ve known, even though the weather didn’t say anything when he checked. He grew up here, he knows the smell in the air and the telltale sign of the leaves turning over like it’s burned into his brain, but he was foolish enough to think he could beat it regardless.</p>
<p>He’d been wrong.   </p>
<p>Lucky for him, he’s smart enough to keep blankets and a change of clothes in the trunk, but the situation is anything but ideal. He’d really like to not be stuck on the side of the road where no one will find him for the rest of the night, but it’s already starting to get dark. He continues to stare out at nothing, which is blending into an even more intense nothing as the minutes tick by on the display. </p>
<p>There’s snow in the ground and the trees, despite being April, but it’s melting away before his eyes. It’s still cold, however, and he’s thankful the heat in his car works. He can see the windshield fogging up periodically, and he cracks the window. For some reason, he needs to see, even though there’s nothing to see.</p>
<p>The minutes pass and pass, as sticky and slow, and Eddie does his best to stay awake so he can drive as soon as the rain slows. He blinks, and in between closing his eyes and opening them he starts losing minutes. After all, no matter how frustrating, the sound is something like nature’s lullaby. He pulls his feet off of the dashboard and shifts in order to fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm. The storm probably won’t stop anytime soon, and he’ll sleep in short bursts so he doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel later. He reaches down to recline his seat, takes one last look out the windshield, and freezes.</p>
<p>His heart is beating entirely too fast for this level of immobility. In fact, it feels like it’s going to burst out of his goddamn chest, because either he’s fallen asleep and didn’t notice or there is something in front of his car. He can’t really see it, because of the stupid rain, but it’s big, and it’s getting closer. It creates a slightly darker space against the darkness of the hour and the storm. This wouldn’t be concerning if he wasn’t in the middle of fucking nowhere, without passing a house for miles. He tries his best to rationalize. It could, reasonably, be a bear.</p>
<p>That doesn’t make him feel much better.</p>
<p>Eddie holds his breath and moves his hand slowly, slowly, even though there’s no chance whatever the hell it is can see him. He doesn’t have his overhead light on, thank god, but it’s right in front of the nose of his car now. </p>
<p>In one motion, Eddie flicks on the highs. </p>
<p>The man in front of him, because that’s exactly what it is, a man, screams in surprise. In turn, Eddie screams, because he’s severely out of his element and there’s a strange man in front of his car in the middle of a storm. He looks really out of it, too, glasses on his face covered in water and soaked to the bone. He shoots his hands up to cover his eyes, and to Eddie’s absolute horror, they’re bloody.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>, Eddie thinks. <em>So this is how I’m going to die</em>. Not in New York, where he has a statistically very high chance of being murdered, but here, on a side road in Maine all alone with no one to hear him. He has his phone, but no service. He feels suddenly remorseful there’s nothing for him to say in this moment, because it might actually provide some fucking comfort. </p>
<p>The guy is shouting at him, cranking his hand in some sort of gesture. Eddie slams his overhead lights on and screams right back.</p>
<p>“I have a gun!” He doesn’t have a gun. The guy jumps back about a foot, and holds up his hands, then points to his ear in the universal I can’t hear you gesture. Eddie groans out loud and rolls the window down an inch.</p>
<p>“I. Have. A. Gun!” He makes one with his hand to emphasize, but the guy outside just squints at him. Eddie can kind of hear him now, but not well. To Eddie’s horror, he approaches the driver’s side window. Eddie rolls it up as fast as he can, and stares wide eyed at the pale face pressed up to the glass across from him. The guy looks wild-eyed, and he is definitely probably an axe murderer. At least part time. His hair is long enough.</p>
<p>He makes the motion from before, and something clicks in Eddie’s head. <em>Oh</em>, <em>shit</em> he realizes. <em>Roll down your window</em>.</p>
<p>“Does ‘I have a gun’ mean nothing to you?!” He shouts without rolling the window down, and the face makes a sort of helpless expression.</p>
<p>“What?!” Even though it’s definitely yelled, it comes through muffled to Eddie. He’s terrified, of course, but this is just getting annoying. He, much to his own dismay, rolls down the window the preapproved inch.</p>
<p>“I have a fucking gun, you moron! And I’m not afraid to use it!” Both of these things are boldfaced lies, but the man doesn’t need to know that. It does not shock him the amount that Eddie is hoping for.</p>
<p>“Oh. Uh, good for you? Can I come in?” Eddie is dumbstruck. The terror has melted away into open irritation, at this point, which probably isn’t good for his survival.</p>
<p>“Can you- What? No you can’t fucking come in! Get the hell away from my car!” His face falls, but he doesn’t back away.</p>
<p>“Please? I promise I won’t kill you, I’m nice! My car just broke down.” He sounds genuine, but Eddie isn’t falling for that shit for one fucking second.</p>
<p>“Congrats on knowing the line every serial killer has ever used! Didn’t I say get the fuck away?” He’s about to roll the window up again, but the guy sticks his fingers in the gap.</p>
<p>“Are you crazy?!” He’s pressing his hands against the window, and Eddie wants to vomit. Jesus Christ. The man looks down at his own hands in sudden realization, and then flashes them back at Eddie.</p>
<p>“Fuck, is it these? I fell, dude, I didn’t fucking kill someone! I can’t see shit normally, let alone right now. Please let me in. I am so cold and normally I promise I am very funny and entertaining but I think I’m gonna die, in like. A short two seconds.” Eddie wouldn’t have said it was possible before, but the guy is even more soaked than before. He curses under his breath.</p>
<p>“What’s your fucking car?” The guy just looks at him.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Your car, idiot! What type of car do you have?”</p>
<p>“Oh. Uh, Cadillac Cimaron. It’s silver.” Eddie blinks at him.</p>
<p>“Didn’t they stop making those in the eighties? For like, being notoriously shitty and bad?” The guy looks sheepish. </p>
<p>“It was my dad’s.” Eddie swears a little louder this time, and throws up his hands.</p>
<p>“Christ, of course it was. I’ll have you know, I already hate myself for this. Get away from the window.” He backs up, clearly trying not to sigh in relief just yet. Eddie rolls the window back up, and reaches over the center console again to unlock the back driver’s side door. He slides back into his own seat and gestures at the door, grimacing. The other guy throws it open and pours himself into the seat, which feels like an appropriate adjective considering he’s mostly water at this point. </p>
<p>Case in point, he’s soaking Eddie’s backseat. He needs like, a dog cover, or something. This is going to be a long night and he knows it already. He flicks off the headlights.</p>
<p>“God. If you pull down the cupholder there should be a towel in the trunk that you can get to. Please stop turning my car into your own personal pool.” The man chuckles under his breath and does as Eddie says, and then holds up a sopping wet backpack.</p>
<p>“Can I put this back there? I don’t think it’s really gonna help your cause.” Eddie scrunches his nose and gives a gesture that means roughly ‘yeah, whatever, get it out of my sight now’ and he seems to get it.</p>
<p>A few minutes of silence later, excepting the sound of a towel doing basically fuck all, he’s halfway through drying his hair. As it starts to dry, it’s curly, but it hasn’t gotten much lighter. He startles Eddie when he pipes up.</p>
<p>“My name is Richie, by the way. What’s yours? I figure we might as well be on first name basis, since you’re extending your house and home and all.” Eddie glares at him over the headrest. Richie, apparently, is folded up back there. He’s tall, defintiely over 6 foot, and doesn’t look particularly comfortable. His hands are still bleeding, and it’s gotten on the towel.</p>
<p>“It’s Edward. Eddie to my friends. And I hope that pathetic attempt at a joke wasn’t the entertainment you were referencing, or we’re in for a very long night.” He leaves out the fact that this means very, very few people call him Eddie. Richie gives a surprised sounding laugh, looks thoughtful for a moment, and then seems to decide on something. Eddie watches a bead of blood drip down his hand and land on his pants, still on the wet side of damp.</p>
<p>“Well then, Eddie, thank you for saving me on this fine spring night. I owe you.” Eddie glares harder, if it’s possible. He rests his head against the back of his seat, and speaks to the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Did I not just say my friends call me that?” He hears Richie laugh again, and feels satisfied in an odd sort of way. Usually, people just get angry at his abrasiveness. Quickly. But Richie doesn’t seem to mind at all, and maybe it’s just because Eddie’s literally just picked him up from the side of the road, but he’s feeling generous. He turns around fully, and furrows his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Let me see your hands.” Richie raises one eyebrow in turn, and smirks. Eddie braces for impact.</p>
<p>“Wow, this early in the first date? Eds, you spoil me.” He still extends his hands, though, and Eddie is tempted to slap them.</p>
<p>“You just keep getting worse, don’t you?” He pauses to let Richie laugh, almost as if they have a rehearsed routine. “Let me know when you reach your limit. Really any time now would work for me.” He’s clearly holding something back now, but he only lasts for a few more seconds.</p>
<p>“Oh baby, I never reach my limit.” Eddie is really, really tempted to slap his hands.</p>
<p>“If you don’t shut up it’s going to be me killing you.” He tries to ignore how much harder Richie laughs at that, and holds one of his hands still, spread out on the console.</p>
<p>It’s not pretty, that’s for sure. There’s gravel in it, which is probably why it’s still bleeding so much, and it’s not particularly clean either. Only as clean as the rain has made it, and Eddie doesn’t trust that one bit. The water probably made the injury look worse than it was, before, but his hands still aren’t a far stretch from hamburger meat. Eddie pushes his hands gently back towards him, trying to avoid the blood, and pops open the glove box to pull out his travel first aid kit. It doesn’t have much, but it’s enough to tide him over until they get somewhere with adequate supplies. </p>
<p>Richie’s a little wide-eyed as he pulls out the gauze, sterilization spray, and bandaids, but he just shrugs in response to the unasked question.</p>
<p>“I like to be prepared. If you get hungry, I also have granola bars, but you’re probably not going to like them. They’re gluten and nut free. Give me your hand again.” </p>
<p>Richie extends a hand, a little more timid this time, and looks in the other direction. “Not to sound like a six year old, but is it going to sting?” Eddie smirks to himself.</p>
<p>“Oh, most definitely.” Of course, it doesn’t sting. Eddie isn't a sadist, and he’s not dumb enough to buy himself the kind that does. Richie looks a little surprised and betrayed when he finds this out for himself, but pleasantly so. Eddie wraps them up when he feels like they’re finally clean enough for the time being, and then relinquishes them to Richie. They’re silent for a few more moments, but it’s not unpleasant.</p>
<p>“I know I said this was the first date, but considering you’ve now bandaged my wounds and held my hand, we might be closer to third date territory.” Eddie rolls his eyes and flops back into the front seat, ignoring the way Richie bats his eyelashes.</p>
<p>“I think I like you better when you’re not talking.” It’s a joke, and Richie seems to know it, because he just grins. To be entirely honest, Eddie’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing here. He knows absolutely jack shit about this guy. For all he knows, he could be a terrible person. Maybe there is no broken down car and he’s just waiting for the right moment to slice through the headrest and Eddie’s neck all in one fell swoop. </p>
<p><em>But</em>, he thinks, <em>he put his bag in the trunk. </em>And he is funny, even if Eddie won’t admit it to his face. The company is, unfortunately, at least a little bit welcome. He’s in Maine for work, after all, and these trips are always tedious and so fucking lonely.</p>
<p>His work trips are always made up of a long, quiet drive, with intermittent texts and calls from his girlfriend the only thing keeping him company. Intermittent may not be the best word, but regardless, it’s the only thing he’s got. He drops into an idiotic company, helps them get their shit in order, and leaves again, all in the span of a week. It’s not pleasant for anyone, but he’s been doing this for years. Sue him for wanting a little change.</p>
<p>He’s not sure he’s really qualified for risk analysis after this, though. He jumps when he feels a hand tap the top of his head.</p>
<p>“You good? You seemed kinda lost in there for a second.” Eddie blinks at him.</p>
<p>“Just thinking,” He stares out at the everpresent rain, still refusing to slow down. “Wanna play 20 questions?” Richie snorts at him.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that a game for middle schoolers?” As far as Eddie is concerned, that’s not a no.</p>
<p>“Got a better idea? Also, good thinking. First question: how old are you?” Richie’s clearly amused, but he plays along.</p>
<p>“I’m newly 32. You?” He says it casually, but he’s engaged in the game now at least.</p>
<p>“Is that your first question?” Eddie asks, trying hard not to sound too playful and failing.</p>
<p>“I hate you. Yes, it’s my first question.” He’s smiling.</p>
<p>“Okay. Strangely enough, I’m also 32. Got some time on you though, my birthday’s back in September. September 3, to be exact. When’s yours?” Eddie wonders idly how many things they have in common. Even age is a little weird, but coincidences are coincidences.</p>
<p>“March 7. Where are you from?” Outside the car, the wind howls.</p>
<p>“Maine, actually. I’m here for work right now though, I live in New York,” Richie narrows his eyes at him. “What?”</p>
<p>“Are you fucking with me right now?” Richie asks it a little aggressively, and Eddie holds up his hands.</p>
<p>“What the fuck? No! Why?” Richie shakes his head and shrugs.</p>
<p>“Nothing, I just. I grew up in Maine too. I mostly live on the west coast now, but I was traveling for shows, so I’m back for now.” It’s weird, but it’s also a perfect segue into the next question.</p>
<p>“Shows? What do you do for work?” Richie smirks and holds up three fingers, and Eddie rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m a comedian. Or, at least, trying to be. I’ve had moderate success so far. This isn’t really a tour so much as me trying to drive myself around the country to perform in places where I have groups of at least ten fans.” He laughs, and shrugs, seemingly to himself. “It what I wanted to do as a kid, and then I went to college for fuckin business of all things, and realized that was the last thing I ever wanted to do. So I decided to chase the childhood dream. And what about you, Mr.- wait, fuck. What’s your last name?” Oh, yeah.</p>
<p>“Kaspbrak. What’s yours?” Richie blinks, and it lasts a little too long to be normal, but then he shakes his head as if to clear it.</p>
<p>“Tozier. How did that take us so long?” He laughs, and it almost sounds self conscious. “Alright, back to the job shit. What do you do?” Eddie wrinkles his nose.</p>
<p>“You’re going to laugh at me.” Richie shakes his head, but there’s a light in his eyes that says otherwise. They’re a really nice shade of blue, now that he thinks about it. Eddie sighs through his nose. “I’m a risk analyst. I mainly work for insurance companies, but I travel to businesses sometimes too. Look through their terrible financial decisions, try to help them make less terrible decisions. It’s work, I guess. And I get paid well for it, which I can’t complain about.” Richie does laugh, but it isn’t mean. Eddie smiles to himself. He knows what he sounds like, but he doesn’t particularly like his job, it’s just suited to his skill set.</p>
<p>“Damn, Kaspbrak is after the money! I never would have put you down for that, man.”</p>
<p>“It certainly doesn’t hurt.” The rain still hasn’t stopped, but Eddie doesn’t really mind now. It sort of, in a weird way, feels like a sleepover. “Okay, my turn. We’ve gone through most of the basic shit so we might as well hit this one. You tied down?”</p>
<p>Richie laughs a little hysterically. “Fuck no. I’m not really good at the whole long term relationship thing, gotta admit. Every girl I’ve ever been with has left me and I do not blame them for a second. What about you, Spaghetti?” </p>
<p>A jolt goes through him at that, and he has no idea why. It’s out of place, and he doesn’t like it. Plus, it’s dumb as hell. “Never, never call me that. It’s horrible. And, yeah. I have a girlfriend. Her name’s uh,” he pauses a moment, but they’re in this deep already, so he might as well. Next they’ll exchange social security numbers in an intimate bonding ritual. “Her name is Myra. We’ve been together for a year.”</p>
<p>Richie whistles low, and nods slowly. “Damn, dude. That’s a commitment. How’d you meet?”</p>
<p>Eddie’s pretty sure it’s actually his turn, but he’s lost track anyway. “Through work. She’s in insurance, at my old firm. We met in college when we were both interning there and were friends after that, and we ended up dating. Felt like a natural progression, I guess.”</p>
<p>Richie raises an eyebrow again, but doesn’t comment. Eddie realizes he’s probably not giving a glowing review of the woman he loves, but, well. It is what it is. He changes the topic.</p>
<p>“What’s your favorite food?” Richie groans at him, and Eddie slaps at his knee. “Shut up! It’s an easy question!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit, God that’s so basic. Alright, fine. Lasagna. See, I’d ask you the same question, but I don’t think that’s fair since you’re literally allergic to like half of the food on Earth if you can’t eat soy or gluten.” He’s smirking, and he leans back in his seat. Eddie’s a little surprised that he’s not as small as he looked before. He’s not built, but his chest is huge and his legs are way too long for the backseat. Eddie blinks.</p>
<p>“I didn’t technically tell you I was allergic, you know. But yeah, I am. Add on eggs and cashews to that list and you’re getting a little closer. But I like sushi.”</p>
<p>Richie shakes his head in mock disappointment and looks out the window, seemingly thinking to himself. He startles Eddie when he finally speaks. “I am notoriously bad at this game. I have been since highschool, so I will admit I’m officially running out of questions. Wanna play truth or dare or some shit? I will absolutely prove to you that I can lick my elbow.”</p>
<p>Eddie fake gags. “Truth or dare in this car isn’t going to amount to much. Also, ew. Keep that to yourself.” He stares out the window after Richie, and jolts in his seat when he realizes the sounds of the downpour have stopped. It’s still raining, but nothing like it had been before. “Oh! Holy shit! We can leave!” </p>
<p>Richie glances back at him and seems to have the same realization. “Oh, yeah. Damn I never thought that would end, to be honest.” He watches as Eddie climbs back over the center console and turns on the wipers to clear off the leaves that have landed on the window, looking a little self-satisfied. When he turns around with questioning eyes, Richie’s seemingly caught by surprise. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you coming up here? I need a navigator.” Richie opens his mouth as if to say something, and then promptly shuts it. To Eddie’s horror, he opens the back door and gets out, running around to the passenger seat only to pull desperately at the handle which is, obviously, still locked. Eddie slams the button and Richie swings himself into the car, getting Eddie wet. He shouts in protest, but Richie just flings the towel at his head after he’s dried himself off.</p>
<p>It’s objectively more gross, but he doesn’t complain. Eddie starts up the car, getting situated, and then turns expectantly to Richie. Richie tilts his head.</p>
<p>“Where am I taking you?” Richie looks a little confused for a minute, and then a blush starts to color his face. Eddie sighs. “What now.”</p>
<p>“Uh, well. I guess you could take me to my car and I can try and fix it? But I don’t think that’s really...an option. Given the smoke, and uh, the sound. That it made.” Eddie raises his eyebrows for the millionth time that night.</p>
<p>“Do you not have a place you’re staying at? Of course I’m not taking you back to your fucking car, dude.” </p>
<p>Richie looks down at his lap. “That would, uh. That would be my car,” When Eddie opens his mouth in shock, Richie throws his hands up. They kind of look like mittens, to be honest. “I’m usually fine in it! There’s no point in buying a room anywhere!”</p>
<p>“Well clearly there fucking is! Jesus Christ, Richie!” Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel, and hits the horn in the process. The resounding beep makes them both scream, and it’s a weird parallel to the beginning of the night.</p>
<p>“Fuck! You’re going to give me a heart attack!” Richie yells, but good naturedly, and Eddie slaps him on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Relax! It’d be stupid to kill you at this point anyway.” He breathes through his nose, trying to bring his heart rate back down. “Look, I’ve gotta find a place for the night too. I usually just drive until I get tired and then stay wherever is nearest. My phone is in the cupholder, I’ll drive until we get service and then you can look for somewhere, alright? We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow. But keep in mind: I will not stay anywhere below three stars. I don’t need an STD from bedsheets.” </p>
<p>Richie’s staring at him, but he nods after a few seconds anyway. Eddie eases the car into drive, and then they’re heading down the road. Richie’s staring intently at his phone, and Eddie assumes he’s waiting for service bars to pop up. It’s a brand new iPhone, and he sometimes doesn’t even let Myra use it, because he doesn’t like people touching his shit. This is sort of a necessity, though. Richie clears his throat a few miles down the road, and Eddie hums at him in response.</p>
<p>“I found a place, take the next right. Four stars, kinda quaint actually. Also, not to be nosy, but you are getting like...a lot of texts, dude. Kind of an insane amount. I assume it’s your girlfriend, unless you know more than one person named Myra.”</p>
<p>Eddie groans internally, and feels an uncomfortable blush creep up the back of his neck. “Just ignore it, I’ll check it when we get to the motel.”</p>
<p>“She seems kind of angry. You sure you don’t want to like...call her?” Eddie shakes his head, and Richie shrugs, still watching him out of the corner of his eye. To his credit, he doesn’t ask. They chat a little bit about growing up in Maine while they drive, Richie occasionally calling out directions and generally not being too inquisitive. It’s nice. He’s a little stressed from the rain, and Richie seems to pick up on it, which he isn’t used to.</p>
<p>After 30 or so minutes of driving, they see signage for the motel. Eddie almost misses it entirely, but Richie sees it at the last second, which is kind of ironic. He whips into the driveway like, to quote Richie, “he has nothing to live for” which he rolls his eyes at. It’s a long driveway, and it’s not paved, so Eddie’s knuckles end up a little white on the steering wheel. Richie, kindly, does not say a word. There’s one point where Eddie seriously thinks Richie is going to have to get out and push, but eventually the car moves on and they both let out a breath. Richie is clearly trying not to let Eddie know he’s nervous too, which sort of makes Eddie smile.</p>
<p>When they pull into the parking lot, finally, Eddie tries not to look twice. The thing is, it’s fucking huge. The main office is more like a main lodge, with cabins surrounding it, and Eddie’s not sure he would have used quaint to describe the place. Seemingly unbothered, Richie pulls on the handle until Eddie pops the lock, glaring at him. The man’s basically a child.</p>
<p>While Eddie turns the car off, Richie stares up at the giant pine trees surrounding the building. They’re no longer covered in snow, and the whole parking lot smells like wet snow and spring. Eddie elects to grab his bags on the way to the room, and pats his pocket to make sure he has his wallet.  He taps Richie’s shoulder on his way by, and he jumps, which Eddie laughs at sort of meanly. He speeds up before Richie can stuff snow down the back of his sweatshirt, because he doesn’t put it past him. If he’s a little out of breath when he finally pulls the door to the main lodge open, it’s not his fault. Richie comes barreling in after him, and he can see the malice in his eyes as he nudges the door open again and chucks something outside. A narrow escape, then. He starts toward the front desk, but Richie holds his hand up and walks ahead. Eddie stares after him quizzically, but maybe Richie knows the place?</p>
<p>The conversation is a little long for anything casual, and before Eddie can step in Richie’s being handed two keys. He turns back towards Eddie with a smug smile on his face, and tosses him one of the keys after glancing at it quickly. “Here, my treat. Call it gas money, alright?” He slips out the door before Eddie can respond, and Eddie is frozen in place for the second time that night.</p>
<p>“Nice guy, huh?” The person at the desk is clearly trying to be friendly, but Eddie’s got a jackass to chase after, so he doesn’t have a lot of time to respond. He doesn’t even know Richie’s room number. He does feel a little satisfaction that he has the car keys, and from his pocket he hits the locking mechanism. There’s no way he actually can hear it, but his brain at least tricks him into hearing a shout of protest. Plan foiled, but a valiant effort on Richie’s behalf.</p>
<p>He mutters a delayed “Yeah, real nice” under his breath as he shoves his way out the door and heads back for the car. As expected, Richie is leaning against the trunk looking a little put out. Eddie’s sense of self-satisfaction raises significantly.</p>
<p>Eddie blurts out “Nice try, asshole” at the same time Richie says “That was supposed to be smooth!” and they both break out into laughter. Eddie shoves his shoulder, which he has to reach up a little to do, and shakes his head. “I am not letting you pay for my fucking room, Richie. That’s more gas money than it would take to drive you to Florida!”</p>
<p>Richie smiles at him sort of slow, and Eddie stares at him for a moment too long. He’s not used to this, not used to being around someone he enjoys so much, and he just met the guy. Maybe he has a fever. Delusions would explain some of this, at least.</p>
<p>“I’m just being nice, Eds. Plus, I have plenty to spare. Let me cover you, at least for tonight. It’s really no trouble.” Eddie clenches his jaw and stares him down, but he looks infuriatingly genuine. He sighs.</p>
<p>“Fine. Fine! At least let me help dry your shit off, then.” Richie shrugs, but he still doesn’t try to hide the smile progressively growing on his face. Eddie pops the trunk and shoulders his own overnight bag, and Richie grabs his backpack, which is still pretty fucking wet. After Eddie checks the front seat and then locks his car up, they set off towards the cabins.</p>
<p>Their rooms are conveniently right next to each other, but Eddie doesn’t bother dropping his things off before heading into Richie’s room. It’s a good trial run, because if Richie’s room is disgusting Eddie will just sleep in the damn car. When they open the front door, Richie whistles. It’s huge, with a center living room and a side bath and kitchen. There’s also a bedroom, but they can only see a small section of it from here. Eddie mutters a “Jesus” under his breath, and Richie shoots him a satisfied grin, maybe just a little cocky about it.</p>
<p>He adjusts his bag over his shoulder and walks to the bathroom, leaving a small trail of drips on the rug behind him. Eddie wrinkles his nose and sets his stuff down next to the door, stepping hesitantly into the room. He can hear Richie rummaging under the sink, and Eddie wonders idly if he’s searching for something or putting things away. He left the door open, Eddie could theoretically look, but it feels like an invasion of privacy somehow. Even being in the room feels like an invasion of privacy, really. It’s ridiculous, because it’s not like Richie lives here in any capacity, but it’s been a long time since he’s occupied space with someone for this long that wasn’t Myra. He feels guilty almost for enjoying this so much, for enjoying his time with a man he met on the side of the road maybe five hours ago. But that doesn’t change the fact that he does enjoy it. He feels like he’s known Richie much longer than just a day, really, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. It’s almost as if-</p>
<p>A noise from hell jumps Eddie a mile out of his skin and he shouts in surprise, effectively stopping any and all thought process. He looks around frantically for whatever could have made the sound, convinced they’re in some sort of mortal danger, but his eyes eventually land on Richie. He’s managed to dump out his entire backpack onto the floor, and he’s blow drying it. Absolutely dumbfounded by the sight of Richie crammed onto the bathroom floor with a blowdryer that’s smaller than his hand trying to dry out a backpack, he doesn’t react when Richie waves at him. After a minute he shakes his head and walks over to the bathroom door. He looks up at him and flicks the blow dryer off expectantly.</p>
<p>“You’re going to shrink that, you know.” Richie just shrugs. After a moment of silence, he goes to turn the blow dryer back on, and Eddie snatches it out of his hand. “Oh my god, that wasn’t a fun fact! Christ. I’m sure there’s a coin-op dryer somewhere, we should go find it.” Richie stares up at him from the floor, looking a little stunned. Eddie feels a self-conscious blush creep up the back of his neck, and he shifts his feet. “What? Why are you fucking looking at me like that?!”</p>
<p>Richie jumps, and in doing so smacks his head against the cupboard hard enough to send a resounding crack throughout the room. He groans and lets it drop between his knees, curling his hands over his skull. Eddie tries not to laugh at him. He doesn’t really succeed, per se, but he doesn’t fail either. He has the good grace to lean down and tilt Richie’s head forward to make sure he isn’t bleeding, though. Richie is a little tense, which is understandable considering he likely just concussed himself, but there isn’t any blood to be seen. He carefully pushes Richie’s head back up, and then squints at his eyes. It’s Richie’s turn to blush now, and he bats Eddie’s hands away from the sides of his face.</p>
<p>“What are <em> you </em> staring at, Doctor K? Do I still have my skull?” He says it a little defensively, and Eddie snorts.</p>
<p>“Don’t even, asshole. You don’t even have a scrape. Do you feel dizzy at all?”</p>
<p>Richie blinks at him a little slowly, which doesn’t help his concerns about the concussion. His pupils look a little big, but Eddie isn’t sure if that’s the oversized glasses sitting a little too far down his nose after the collision or if it’s something of medical concern. “Do I feel dizzy?”</p>
<p>Eddie rocks back onto his heels, suddenly conscious of how close he is to Richie’s face when he can practically feel the body heat coming off of him. “It was a pretty hard hit, dude. I’m worried you might have a concussion.” Richie raises his eyebrows, and then pushes his glasses back up his nose. Objectively, he looks fine. Eddie is still worried.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Doctor. I’ve got a hard head.” He smirks a little, but Eddie must look marginally more threatening because he keeps the joke to himself. They sit there for a few more seconds before Richie shoves Eddie’s chest gently back and uses the counter to pull himself up. He groans, but it’s probably just dramatic at this point. Eddie, who almost lost his balance when Richie pushed him, gets his feet under him and follows suit. The backpack is still creating a small puddle on the floor. Eddie stares at it for a while, and then all of the items and clothes that have been tossed into the bathtub. </p>
<p>“I can’t believe you carried all that shit in the rain. It would’ve been fine in your car.” Richie sighs in response, rubbing at his head again.</p>
<p>“Actually, my sun roof and trunk both leak, so they might be better off with me after all.” Eddie tries not to scream, and leans down to pick up the backpack by the handle with one finger. He grimaces at it.</p>
<p>“So, coin-op? Are we going on a search?” Richie looks a little surprised again, and takes the backpack from his hand a little more quickly than he needs to. When Eddie raises his eyebrows, Richie clears his throat.</p>
<p>“You were serious about that? I mean, like, the we? You don’t have to help me, trust me. I owe you so unbelievably hard already.” </p>
<p>“Are you kidding? I’ve got nothing else to do, man,” When Richie starts to nod like that’s a valid explanation, Eddie dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Also, you’re funny and I like being around you, for some fucking reason. We’re sort of in this together now, right?” He blinks rapidly a few times, and Eddie starts to reconsider the concussion.</p>
<p>“Oh. Uh, yeah. Okay. It’s not like I’d mind the company anyway so we can go looking if you’re actually up to it, or whatever.” He’s clearly extremely uncomfortable, and Eddie feels like that sort of makes sense since Eddie could still, in theory, be trying to murder him. Richie pauses for a little too long, and then drops his hand to his side and slides it into the pocket of his jeans. “You’re cool, too. I’m glad it was you who picked me up and not some insane backwoods psychopath.”</p>
<p>Eddie laughs out loud, and that seems to ease Richie’s nerves a little because he starts laughing too. After a second, Eddie takes the backpack back from Richie and goes over to the tub, searching for the clothes amongst the pile of miscellaneous shit. He starts to shove them into the backpack to throw into the dryer as well, and Richie leans over the side of the tub next to him to help out. Once they have everything they can feasibly put into a dryer in the backpack, Eddie hands it back to Richie and gestures to the door.</p>
<p>It’s not bitterly cold out, but it isn’t warm. Eddie rolls down the sleeves of his sweatshirt against the air and pulls his hood up over his ears. He feels worse for Richie, who is definitely still damp, but it’s not like any of Eddie’s clothes would actually fit him anyway. They’ll just have to find the dryer quickly.</p>
<p>The dryer, of course, that Eddie is <em> reasonably </em> sure exists. He’s stayed in places like this before, with separate suites, but when he checks the usual spots for a washer and dryer he can’t seem to find them. They’d looked around the room before they left, but it was also void, which Eddie thinks is exceedingly annoying and a good reason for a slightly negative review.</p>
<p>It takes around four minutes of Eddie standing in the middle of the driveway, glaring around, for Richie to finally suggest that they visit the main building and check to see if it’s there, and if it’s not, if the employee knows where it is. It’s a perfectly reasonable suggestion, and Eddie feels a little ridiculous that he was too stubborn and determined to find it on his own to consider it. He follows Richie back up the drive to the main office, wincing when he notices that the backpack Richie is carrying leaves a slowly dripping trail behind him wherever he goes. The trail continues even when Richie pushes through the door and into the building, and Eddie considers cupping his hands under it for a moment before they reach the front desk. The clerk who had previously tried to be friendly gives them an odd look, and Eddie looks to the side, feeling odd for no reason at all.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Richie says, a little more familiar than Eddie would have gone for, but that seems to be his general personality anyway. “You guys don’t happen to have a dryer somewhere that we can use, do you? Sorry to bother you, but we couldn’t find it on our own.” He smiles apologetically and holds up the bag, where it continues to drip steadily onto the floor. Eddie cringes.</p>
<p>“Did you wash them already, or something?” The person at the desk sounds incredibly snarky, but Richie laughs good naturedly at the joke. It’s nice of him, because Eddie certainly wouldn’t have. “There’s a dryer right around the corner in the utilities room. It’s right next to the little convenience room, shouldn’t be hard to find.” Richie nods his thanks and waves with the hand that’s not holding the bag as he sets off to find the other room.</p>
<p>And it’s odd. Eddie could swear, right as he turns around, he hears the telltale click of the camera shutter on an iPhone. When he turns around, the kid is looking down at the desk, apparently bored out of his mind. Eddie shakes it off and follows after Richie, but it’s still kind of weird.</p>
<p>Sure enough, the dryer is right where it was said to be, thankfully empty. Richie is in the process of digging in his pocket, presumably for quarters, but Eddie pulls out his wallet and inserts a few before he has a chance to find them. Richie opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie holds up a hand to cut him off.</p>
<p>“Dude, you just paid for a room that was way too expensive to be necessary. Shut up, it’s the least I can do,” Richie looks a little put out, and Eddie shoves his shoulder as he jumps up to sit on the washing machine to wait. “Plus, I’m not loading your fucking clothes, that’s gross. Consider it even.”</p>
<p>It’s quiet between them while he loads the machine, and Eddie is relaxed by the rhythm of him moving back and forth, shaking out the clothes gently before tossing them in. The washer and dryer are set to the side, lit from above by a warm pocket light, and though it should probably feel like he’s under interrogation, it’s just calming. Everything is quiet, and it’s getting sort of late but he doesn’t feel irritated about being kept up like he would normally. His eyes droop some, and he leans his head back against the wall. He hears Richie put the backpack in and close the door, and then the only other sound is the soft rumble of the dryer. He lolls his head to the side to look at Richie, and the other man gives him a soft smile from where he’s leaning against the machine.</p>
<p>The atmosphere is a little different than before, but it’s nice. Eddie shouldn’t feel this comfortable. He definitely shouldn’t be so familiar with the guy, but it’s nice, and he isn’t going to turn his nose up at it. It’s the first time in a long, long while he’s felt connected to someone like this. It feels like a reunion rather than an introduction, and his chest feels a little warm. Richie looks like he’s zoning out a little bit, and Eddie breathes through his nose and tries not to yawn. He’s still looking at Richie, at his profile under the light above them. He’s got a strong jawline, and a bit of stubble, but what keeps his face from being intimidating rests in his mouth and his eyes. He’s got lines there, but they’re the kind that imply he has a sense of humor. That’s he’s kind, if a little mischievous. It’s a nice face. Eddie feels something fleeting, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s not jealousy, really, though he does wish he didn’t seem so harsh all the time. It’s an appreciation, almost. Approval, maybe? </p>
<p>Richie must catch him staring, because he quirks his eyebrow gently at Eddie. Eddie feels himself blush, a little, but he shrugs. Before Richie can comment, he says what he didn’t even realize he was thinking. “You just seem so familiar. Normally I would never even consider acting like this but,” he trails off. He’s not sure what the but is here, and it throws him. He furrows his eyebrows. “I guess I just feel like I’ve known you forever. It sounds dumb, but I wonder if maybe we saw each other as kids. Same state, at least.” He feels kind of stupid for saying anything, but Richie looks understanding. He looks at Eddie a little more directly, and Eddie shifts. The dryer rumbles on.</p>
<p>“I mean, it’s not impossible. I know what you mean though. Normally, I would’ve stuck it out in my car. But I wasn’t worried about riding with you, I guess. I probably should have been, to be fair.” He looks down at his feet, seemingly concentrating. Eddie wonders what about, but he doesn’t have to for long.</p>
<p>“Do you remember where you grew up?” It’s an odd question. Even odder is how Richie asks it, sort of like he doesn’t know the answer himself. Eddie realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t quite know either. Maine, obviously, some small town near Bangor, but the name escapes him. It’s not like it would matter, really. He just can’t put his finger on it. And it’s not like there’s anyone he can ask.</p>
<p>“Uh, near Bangor?” He laughs, self-consciously. “It sounds insane, but I can’t remember the name of the town. I lived there for my entire childhood and I have no idea what it was called!” Richie raises his eyebrows and looks like he’s thinking even harder. Eddie wants to make a comment about smoke, or something, but it doesn’t really seem like the time.</p>
<p>“You know what’s weird?” He asks the question like it’s not one, like it’s a statement. “I can’t either. I literally can’t remember anything about it. I think I was also near Bangor, maybe, because my family definitely went a few times. But past that I know fuck all. I guess places around here just aren’t that memorable, huh?” Eddie laughs and nods along, but in his heart he knows that isn’t true. He knows so many towns in Maine, so many places he’s never even been but knows of. Arundel, Jay, Gray, Lewiston, New Sharon, Bath, Rockland, Clinton, and yet he can’t name the place where he grew up. And neither can Richie. Something isn’t right, not quite, but before he can puzzle it out further Richie shakes his head and leans back.</p>
<p>“Maybe we did run into each other after all! I’m just glad I’m alive and kicking to be forced into doing my laundry.” He grins. “Y'know Eds, you’re really driving that ‘home again’ vibe for me.” Eddie punches his shoulder, gently, and rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault you’re a grown ass man that doesn’t know not to fucking blow dry his material possessions.” Riche snorts at him and reaches out to cuff the back of his head, but Eddie ducks effortlessly out of the way.</p>
<p>“I was being considerate, jackass! It seemed like the best option in the moment!” He squints at Eddie, like he’s getting an idea. Eddie is growing to hate that look already. “When I was 17, I cooked an egg on the sidewalk and then I ate it.” Eddie gasps in offense, but Richie isn’t done, apparently. “I once ate lunch, let my dog lick the plate clean, and then ate dinner. Until I was 25 I washed my hair with dish soap because I had it in the house. Last year-“</p>
<p>“Stop!!! Stop! Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?!”</p>
<p>“Hey Spaghetti, you said you wanted to get to know me! If you think blow drying a backpack is high on my personal list of questionable decisions, you’re firmly in the red.” He’s smirking, and Eddie wants to kill him a little bit.</p>
<p>“I kind of wish <em>I</em> was an ax murderer just so I didn’t have to deal with you right now. I’m really considering the career change.” Richie bursts into laughter so intense he slides slowly down the side of the dryer, and Eddie glares at him from on top of the washing machine. </p>
<p>“You’re a nightmare.” Richie perks up a little, and cocks his head to the side.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey wait. That sounds really familiar. I feel like you’ve said that to me before.” Eddie’s heart beats a little faster. It’s stupid, really, because there’s no goddamn way he knows Richie. He would remember him, surely, but there’s always a chance that- Richie snaps his fingers loudly, jerking Eddie out of his train of thought.</p>
<p>“Got it! I got it! It’s what your mom used to whisper to me during our pillowtalk!”</p>
<p>For a moment, Eddie is speechless. The urge to kill Richie goes up marginally, but the fact that the joke is actually funny is kind of shutting him down as a person. He just stares at Richie, who laughs harder, and seems to be losing the ability to breathe when Eddie clarifies that he doesn’t actually want to know him that much, now, thanks.</p>
<p>In a very timely and convenient manner, the dryer slows down and chimes to let them know it’s done. Richie is still being useless on the floor, so Eddie hops down and opens the dryer. The clothes are warm, and they feel nice against his slightly chilly hands. Practically, he pulls the backpack out first, and dumps it into Richie’s lap. Richie, who has seemed to calm his shit down a little bit, holds the backpack open obediently. He laughs quietly when he notices that Eddie is folding everything, but he doesn’t comment. It’s quiet, again, and peaceful. Eddie likes it, and allows himself to for a minute at least. Having a companion is nice. Because that’s what this is, really. It’s companionship. They found each other in an unlikely situation, and they’ll hang out for a few days.</p>
<p>It’s not like they have anything in common anyway. And it’s not like Richie isn’t going to go his own way tomorrow morning. They’re just temporary friends, he reasons with himself. Absolutely impermanent.</p>
<p>Once the backpack is zipped, Eddie just sort of stands there staring at it. He’s not really sure how to leave this space. It sounds ridiculous, but it feels like they’re in a different part of the world. Here it’s quiet, and dark, and peaceful, and they have a connection. The second they leave, he worries that something will change irrevocably. He’ll feel <em> seen </em>, again, the warmth from Richie’s clothes will seep out of his hands, and he’ll never see him again. He turns his gaze up to Richie’s own, and holds it there, for a moment. There’s still something Eddie can’t put his finger on.</p>
<p>Richie hauls himself up and slings the backpack over his shoulder. “Shall we?” Eddie nods quietly and slides down off of the washer, the silence of the room curling around the back of his neck. He follows Richie out of the room and back across the floor of the lobby. The desk is empty, now, the only sound in the room distant music playing over invisible speakers. It feels a little bit wrong, and he sticks closer to Richie’s heels than he has reason to. He fits neatly behind him, and barely breathes until they’re outside in the fresh air.</p>
<p>It wasn’t cold before, but there’s a definite chill now. He wonders just how cold it will be, not that it matters, and watches his feet closely in the dark. Richie is relaxed, at ease in the still of the night, and Eddie tries to follow suit. Breathes in through his nose slowly, exhales, releases the tension in his shoulders. It helps a little, but he’s inexplicably tense. He doesn’t feel <em> safe </em>, which he realizes is ridiculous. They’re in a wide open, public space, with god only knows how many eyes on them. Nothing can happen here, but a childish fear grips at Eddie’s spine and reminds him that none of that matters. He can’t shake the feeling off no matter how many times he reminds himself that he’s safe. Richie glances at his tense form every now and again, but doesn’t bring anything up. It’s a relief. Richie’s room is almost unbearably warm when they finally reach the door and he swings it open, but anything unbearable in a way mimicking comfort is welcome at this point. </p>
<p>He slips in the door after Richie, meaning only to grab his things and leave, but he realizes he doesn’t have the key. Eddie feels oddly, now, like he’s going to cry. Edward Kaspbrak can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to cry, because it’s inconvenient and a waste of time and unnecessary and something that children do, not grown men. Nonetheless, Eddie feels like he’s done something horribly wrong. He’s broken some invisible boundary, and he’s heading for <em> Bad Things </em> up ahead. For the life of him, he can’t put a name to what the Bad Things are. It’s literally his job to imagine every bad thing possible and advise others on how to avoid them, but this Bad Thing is of another nature. His face feels hot, too hot, and his eyes burn. He’s angry about it, distantly, but right now he’s feeling something even he doesn’t understand.</p>
<p>“Eddie?” Richie startles him, apparently having been standing right in front of Eddie this whole time. He’s openly spiralling, and he knows it, but he can’t really stop it. He lets out a choked little laugh, which only concerns Richie further. He extends a hand, to place on Eddie’s shoulder maybe, but Eddie can’t take that. He pulls back, just a little, and holds up his hands.</p>
<p>“I’m okay man, don’t worry. It’s just been a really long and weird day. I think I just need some sleep,” Richie looks suspicious, but he’ll take suspicious over concerned any day of the week. “I just don’t have my key, do you?”</p>
<p>Richie nods wordlessly and reaches into his pocket, dropping the warm key into Eddie’s outstretched palm. He shoots Richie a tight smile and tosses his bags over his shoulder, meaning to walk out of the door without another word.</p>
<p>This isn’t something that Eddie needs. He doesn’t need strangers in his car, or feelings he can’t understand, or any uncertainty or danger in his life. He doesn’t need someone telling him your mom jokes like he’s eleven years old, or making him feel like there’s something crucial he’s forgotten. Edward Kaspbrak has his life on track. He’s got a girlfriend, a serious one, that he sorely needs to call. He’s got a job that pays the bills, and if he’s lucky a house within the next year. Eddie is <em> good </em>, all by himself. Even if he isn’t particularly happy right now, he will be. He doesn’t need some strange man in his life.</p>
<p>Just as he goes to close the door behind him, he hears a soft voice from inside the room that stops him in his tracks. The heavy door hits his hip, but he doesn’t feel it.</p>
<p>“Eddie?” It’s tentative, and he feels instantly terrible. Richie probably thinks it’s his own fault that Eddie is running without another word, but it’s not. It’s not him at all. Eddie just needs to cut this off at the pass, because he doesn’t need a friend. Doesn’t need to hurt the both of them.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” He doesn’t turn around, but he’s sure Richie can see the tension in every line of his frame.</p>
<p>“Goodnight.” It’s a simple word, a customary thing to leave someone with, but it feels...heavier than it should. Eddie stares into the cold night in front of him and blinks a few times. He doesn’t need this.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Richie.” He hesitates, screaming at himself in his mind that he doesn’t need anything, that this is gratuitous, selfish. “I’ll see you in the morning.”</p>
<p>As he lets the door swing shut behind his fleeing form, he doesn’t see Richie’s face spread into a slow smile. He doesn’t see it, but he feels it, and he has no idea how to interpret that. It sends a chill down his spine, if chills could feel warm. His face is too hot, again, and he lets himself into his room holding his breath all the while. As he goes to get ready for bed, he doesn’t check the walls for mold or his bed linens for impurities like he normally would. His head is so full, he can’t even bring himself to think about it. </p>
<p>Eddie goes to sleep that night with a face that’s still too warm, a creeping feeling he can’t name, and a head that’s full of thoughts that he’s sure aren’t his own. When his head hits the pillow, he falls asleep faster than he remembers ever having experienced in his life. He forgets to call Myra, but since he also forgets to change his shirt, he can’t really be blamed. Eddie lays down, Eddie sleeps, and Eddie <em> dreams </em></p>
<p>———————</p>
<p>Sometimes of a hole in the ground. It’s not just a hole, because it’s their Clubhouse. The name has meaning, has the honor of being a proper noun in his mind but he can’t really figure out why. He doesn’t care to. If he were to be rational about it, he would acknowledge it really is just a hole dug into the dirt, but this isn’t the time or place for rationality. He’s not sure how he knows that it’s theirs, or who <em> they </em> even are, but that doesn’t bother him either. In his dream, Eddie Kaspbrak is fifteen years old, and it’s summertime. He’s sitting on ground level, but his legs dangle into the hole they dug two summers ago because it’s much cooler under the earth. </p>
<p>He’s sitting on the edge because, even though it’s summer, it’s down pouring. Something about that doesn’t sit quite right with him, and the rain isn’t a warm summer shower. It’s cold, needling into his bare legs and fingers. The Clubhouse has standing water in it, but not too much, and the planks on the floor keep it from getting too damp. Eddie knows this, but it doesn’t feel safe to be down there now. So he sits on the edge, halfway in and halfway out, and feels like that’s significant somehow. <em> Someone </em> is down there, someone he cares about, but he can’t bring himself to go down. The rain bounces off of the windbreaker he has on, but it’s already mostly soaked through.</p>
<p>He might be waiting for someone else. It’s freezing up here, but he feels hot, and he groans at the oppressive feeling of it, leaning back so he’s laying on the ground. It might be a fever, he could be catching cold from the rain and the mud and the decay of last fall’s leaves, but he doesn’t want to think about it. He can feel the slick ground through the back of his jacket, but the hood is up and his hair stays clean. He closes his eyes as the rain hits his face, a little painful but also a relief against the fire burning him up inside. </p>
<p>Whoever is below tugs hard on his leg out of nowhere, and Eddie shouts in protest, kicking out at them. He’s not motivated enough to sit up, because for some reason he’s not too worried about it, and in truth he doesn’t really kick that hard either. The person pokes their head out next to his knee, which he only knows because he feels warm, slightly damp skin press against his leg. He can’t see them, but he feels comfortable in a way that’s more familiar than it has been in years. The person, someone Eddie knows is definitely a boy, presses his cheek harder against Eddie’s knee, and Eddie feels a few degrees hotter than before.</p>
<p>“What are you whining about?” His voice is nice, not really deep yet, though it might be in the future. As comforting and familiar as Eddie’s own, except he can’t put a name or a face to it. He responds as if there’s a script already written, and there very well might be.</p>
<p>“It’s fucking <em> shitty out</em>, is what I’m whining about. How aren’t you bothered?” The boy below him laughs quietly, and shoves his knees out of the way so he can sit on the edge next to Eddie. Eddie, still laying down, can’t see anything except a soft, navy blue tshirt. It’s getting darker wherever the rain hits it, and Eddie’s fingers itch with the urge to get him a jacket. He reaches out and tugs at the hem like it’s the most natural thing in the world.</p>
<p>“Well, Eds, it’s significantly drier down in our very convenient hole in the ground, you know. It’s not like the others are somehow going to forget it exists. You can join me down there. It’s like, 20 degrees warmer,” Eddie closes his eyes again, breathing in the earthy smell that he cherishes. It’s so natural and comforting, something he’s not allowed to often have. If he went and collapsed in his backyard, his mother would call 911. The other boy tilts his head back and lets the rain hit his glasses.</p>
<p>“Or, even better, we can play hooky on them today. I think they might’ve beat us to the punch, anyway. We can just go back to my house and put in Goonies, or something.” It’s not phrased as a question, but his voice ticks up at the end anyway. He seems a little nervous, but that’s not quite the right word. Hopeful, maybe.</p>
<p>“I know, I want to, this fucking sucks. I just feel bad about leaving without them showing up. I’m worried they’ll,” he trails off for a moment, trying to get a grip on the correct thought. His face is a little numb, and so are his hands. After a moment, he decides he has a vague grasp on what it might be that he’s concerned about. “I’m worried they’ll think something happened to us.”</p>
<p>The other boy laughs quietly, and leans forward onto his knees a little bit. “We can just give them a call, Eddie my love.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s face feels like it’s on <em> fire </em> , which is stupid, because it’s just a dumb nickname. There’s a chance, of course, he does have a fever. But he knows that, on his side, there’s something he’s not quite telling. A reason he doesn’t want to leave, not because he really feels like they might be worried, not because they might already be on their way, but because he doesn’t want to leave this moment. Here, they’re alone, and it’s quiet, and nothing can get in. The rain beats against his face, and Eddie feels the strange urge to cry. Not, necessarily, because he’s sad, but because he feels <em> angry </em>. Angry in the way that there is something holding him back, something he couldn’t beat if he tried. He opens his eyes against the rain, and it stings, because he doesn’t have glasses.</p>
<p>The other boy looks back at him, directly into his own face, and Eddie still cannot make out a single feature. He blames it on the rain in his eyes, but that doesn’t feel right. Nothing does. He reaches up and slides the glasses off of his face, and then slides them onto Eddie’s. Now neither of them can see, but the rain does not pound into his eyes any longer. Their faces are close, too close for what they’re allowed, and he feels warm breath mingle with his own.</p>
<p>As if connected by a string, they lean in at the same time. His lips are soft, and his mouth is warm, but Eddie can’t feel anything. It’s wet. It’s <em> too </em> wet, slick and sticky like something is wrong, like something is very, very wrong with everything happening around him. He tries to pull back, but he pulls too hard. He falls backwards, out of the dream, out of everything around him, and Edward Kaspbrak dreams now only of darkness.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading and please stay tuned! Comments make my day and fuel me all the more to keep writing. Find me on Twitter and Tumblr @catacrypts, and in the meantime show up, sign petitions, and do whatever you can to support black people and creators online and in your lives! I’ll see you soon!</p>
<p>(my forever thanks to my first reader/beta and partner in crime @Centaurpede I couldn’t do it without you)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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